


All the Limits That You Figured Out

by affectingly



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Coming Untouched, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, M/M, Marking, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 21:46:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1526855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/affectingly/pseuds/affectingly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles needs something from his Alpha.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Limits That You Figured Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Inell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/gifts).



> This is based on a prompt "Scott/Stiles with spanking" that I got from Inell. The title is stolen from "We Remain" by Christina Aguilera.

Scott doesn't remember when things with Stiles went from friends to best friends, or from best friends to sex, or now from sex to something  _more_. 

He does know that he's always trusted Stiles. It's a fundamental part of Scott's identity. Even when he argues with Stiles, even when he tells Stiles no, even when he knows Stiles is  _wrong_ , Scott trusts him.

So when Stiles whispers one night, _"Will you... will you hold me down?"_ Scott trusts that Stiles wouldn't ask for something he couldn't handle.

And when Stiles says, _"I need you to make me wait."_ Scott makes him wait.

And _"You should mark me, I want to carry your mark,"_ Scott complies happily.

It's the hardest, though, when Stiles asks for Scott to hurt him. 

\--

"I don't mean that I want you to beat me up, or anything," Stiles says awkwardly, crossing his arms in front of him.

They're just off of a run in with some rogue trolls. Stiles disobeyed an order during battle and while it didn't result in anyone getting really hurt, it could have. Scott is more disappointed than angry. 

"Then what  _are_  you saying?" he asks, keeping his voice calm, trying to understand what it is Stiles wants from him to make this better. 

"Just..." Stiles shrugs, looking away. "Maybe... spank me? I don't... I don't want to feel like I do right now, and I think it might help. Please?"

Stiles looks at him again, eyes searching Scott's, and Scott feels his heart contract in his chest, hears it thump loudly in his ears. He nods.

"Okay, yeah, we can... I'll do it."

Stiles licks his lips and there's a flush staining his cheeks and his throat, standing out obscenely against his pale skin. Scott's never wanted to bite Stiles so badly before, with sharp, Alpha’s teeth, teeth that will make him _bleed_. Not to change him, **_never to change him_** _,_  but to tie him to Scott in the most permanent way Scott's instincts provide him.

He won't though. It's enough that Stiles bears his mark on his shoulder, a blotchy bruise that Scott sucks to the surface every chance he gets, presses blunt human teeth into. It's enough that Stiles chooses to be his.

Scott takes a calming breath, in through his nose and then out again. "Take off your clothes."

Stiles doesn't hesitate. He strips his flannel off, his t-shirt, and undershirt. Stiles wears layers like they're armor, like they'll protect him from tooth and claw. A little like camouflage, too; he hides that his shoulders are wide and strong, that his arms flex with every movement, that he has more power than he lets on.

When Stiles is naked in front of him, he turns to Scott. "You too, please?"

Nodding, Scott takes of his own clothes, down to his boxers, but he keeps those on. This is supposed to be a punishment, and he doesn't need either of them getting distracted. 

He walks over to his bed and crawls onto it, sits up against the wall and beckons to Stiles. "Come here."

Stiles goes easily, willingly. This is what  _he_  wants, after all, but Scott can feel that it's what both of them need. He's reminded again that he trusts Stiles above anyone else.

Scott helps Stiles crawl over his lap, spreading himself out with his ass tilted up. There’s a tremble in Stiles’ muscles as Scott settles his hand over the round swell of his ass, and it feels natural to soothe him.

He pets Stiles, hand sliding up his back and then down again, cupping, teasing a thumb between Stiles’ ass cheeks, over his hole. Stiles shivers, more noticeable now, and it puts a crooked grin on Scott’s face.

“Stiles,” he says.

“Yeah?” Stiles already sounds winded.

“Why do you deserve this?”

“I – I didn’t listen while we were in battle. I – I didn’t trust you,” the admission falls heavy from Stiles’ lips, his voice cracking like it hurts him more than Scott.

It probably does.

Scott takes another calming breath, tries to find the right words, the right way to make this better for Stiles, for both of them. “And how many – how many swats do you think you deserve for that?”

Stiles’ muscles ripple under Scott’s touch as he lets out a small whine, clutching at the bedspread. He looks over his shoulder at Scott, color high in his cheeks and honey brown eyes bright, feverish.

“I – thi- _twenty_ ,” gasps Stiles.

“Okay,” says Scott.

He lifts his hand to start and Stiles blurts, “Wait!” 

Scott freezes. “Are you okay? If you don’t want to –“

Stiles shakes his head. “No, no, I still – I just. I want… if I beg for you to stop, I don’t want you to stop. I need you to, to make me take what I _deserve_.”

Eyes widening, Scott hesitates. “Stiles, I don’t –“

“Please? I just – if I _really_ _need_ you to stop, I could… I’ll say um, ‘sheriff.’”

Scott can’t help it, he laughs a little. It breaks the tension and Stiles lets out the breath he was holding. Scott offers him a soft smile. “Alright, I think I can handle that.”

Stiles nods. “Thank you.”

It’s a moment before Scott can pull himself back into what he’s about to do. He rubs Stiles’ soft skin, thinking about the worry and panic he felt when Stiles broke ranks, when he ran forward and Scott couldn’t _get to him_. He had to rely on Malia to act, pray he’d trained his pack well enough that they understood. He remembers the absolute helplessness that permeated his whole being in those horrible thirty-seven seconds.

He raises his hand and brings it down, a resounding _smack_ ringing out in his room. Stiles jerks, lets out a startled, “ _Oh._ ”

It doesn’t take long for Scott to realize that this really is for him as much as it’s for Stiles. The second and third swat come quickly, feeling right. His other hand reaches out to squeeze the back of Stiles’ neck, hold him in place.

Every hit pushes a broken, hitching groan from Stiles’ mouth. He whimpers and squirms as Scott lands four and five, one on each cheek. Stiles’ skin is turning a very satisfying red and Scott wants to make it brighter, hotter.

He gets to ten before Stiles starts to beg. “Please, _please_ , I’ll be good. I’m s-sorry!”

Scott pauses, but not long. He strikes Stiles even harder, and Stiles cries out. “No, no, I’ll be better. I will!”

“How will you ever learn your lesson if I let you off the hook every time? I’m your **Alpha _,_** Stiles. That means you listen to me, you don’t put the whole pack in danger by doing whatever you want!”

Twelve. Thirteen.

Tears well in Stiles’ eyes, his mouth open and so, so pink. “I’m **sorry**!”

Scott can hear the truth, the sincerity, but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t want to now, and he doesn’t need to stop. He lets all his worry and disappointment and panic flow out of him, like an exorcism. Every time his palm connects with Stiles’ ass he feels a little freer.

Stiles is crying as he rounds fifteen, a sob falling from his pretty mouth when sixteen cracks through the room. Seventeen gets drown out entirely, and Scott has to put effort into holding Stiles down for eighteen and nineteen.

He can smell Stiles’ arousal, too, feel his hard cock rubbing against Scott’s thigh, and Scott has to anchor himself to keep from shifting.

“You want me to fuck you,” he says. It’s not a question.

Stiles hiccups, cries. “Please!”

“You have to take an extra five.” Scott doesn’t know where it comes from, someplace in his mind he doesn’t want to think about. It feels like the right thing.

“Sc--ott,” he whines, a sob breaking the name in half.

“Yes or no, Stiles.” He’s rubbing the burning, heated skin now. It makes Stiles squirm beneath him.

Stiles sniffles, but then: “Yes!”

Scott rumbles in satisfaction, doesn’t hesitate as he delivers the final six strikes, lighting Stiles up. When he’s done, he shoves Stiles off his lap and grabs for the lube and struggles out of his boxers.

Stiles is already pulling his knees under him, ass in the air for Scott, and then he pushes into the rough plunges of Scott’s slick fingers. His face is shoved into a pillow, legs spread wide, wanton.

“You were good, you were so good for me, Stiles,” pants Scott, prying a third finger in.

Stiles whines sharply. “Now, do it now. I need it, I need you, please.”

Scott won’t deny him, won’t deny himself. He slicks his own cock, shuffles into place and pushes, makes Stiles’ body open for him. He watches greedily as Stiles’ clutching, pink hole stretches for him, takes every inch.

Nothing has ever felt as good, as right as being inside of Stiles. He hooks an arm under Stiles, hand curled around his shoulder to keep him in place as he starts snapping his hips hard and fast.

Stiles takes it beautifully, perfectly.

“You’re mine, you’re _mine_.” No one has ever made him feel possessive the way Stiles does, no one has ever felt like they belong to him in the way Stiles always has and always will.

“Yes,” groans Stiles, “I’m yours, yours, please!”

Scott fastens his mouth over the mottled skin on Stiles’ shoulder, sucks hard, clamps blunt teeth down so hard he tastes blood. His cock drives into Stiles again and again and Stiles takes it, moans, begs for it.

When Stiles comes, it’s untouched, his body jerking beneath Scott, pretty cock pulsing, his scent strong and pungent in the air. Scott growls, fucks through the rhythmic tightening of Stiles’ ass, the nearly painful squeezes. It makes his own orgasm surge up, spill out of him.

He moans, calls out, “Stiles, fuck, love you, love you so much, oh my god.”

He grinds his hips against Stiles’ hurt ass, gets a whine in response that makes his hips roll a few more times, a hungry rut that shakes Scott.

Finally, _finally_ , he collapses, rolls off of Stiles. Stiles whimpers when Scott pulls out, but he doesn’t move, stays boneless at Scott’s side.

Satisfaction settles over Scott, helps him catch his breath. He turns onto his side and reaches out, gently petting down Stiles’ back, over his red, glowing ass.

“Hnngh,” says Stiles.

A smile spread across Scott’s face. “Are you okay?”

“Uh huh, I’m – “ Stiles breathes, turns so he can look at Scott. His hair’s a mess and looks kind of _drunk_. He smiles back. “I’m really good.”

“Yeah, you are.” Scott kisses him, and Stiles sighs happily.

\--

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out on my tumblr if you want: affectingly.tumblr.com


End file.
